


Battle of the Pillows [and Fingers]

by lesbijkas



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: And Then Some, Basically the entirety of NATO, Other Untagged Characters, Pillow Fights, Tickle Fights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 21:01:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8637919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbijkas/pseuds/lesbijkas
Summary: Had you told Iceland the meeting was going to end up like this, he would have stayed in bed that morning like Hong Kong had suggested. Never again would he make the same mistake.





	

            With a loud battle cry England launched himself off of his spot, smashing a pillow across South Italy’s face which immediately caused the older nation to stumble backwards and topple off of the meeting room table onto Canada’s lap. Canada fell backwards. As both nations were grappling on the ground, Lovino quickly wrapped his legs around Canada’s waist so he could get at the other’s neck, Matthew’s laughter soon sounding throughout the room.

            Feathers exploded into the air, laughter and shrieking drowning out the muffled noises of pillows hitting faces and sides. Alfred was in the middle of all of it, trying to fight off Germany, of all nations, and France, at the same time. He was failing spectacularly.

            Iceland stood so he was pressed flat against the wall completely mortified as chaos erupted around him. Had you told him the meeting was going to end up like this, he would have stayed in bed that morning like Hong Kong had suggested.

            Never again would he make the same mistake.

            …

            The day had started out well, at least as well as a NATO meeting could go. It was a personification’s only meeting being held in France. The meeting block was picked out for a week and a half; some of the days only being spent a few hours in the meeting room. There was plenty of time to sight see, sleep, and anything else one might do in France.

            Erik had bought two overly expensive, but soft and loose, sweaters for himself and some chocolates for Jia Long and Elise. They were the lucky ones, staying on Liechtenstein’s property for the next two weeks instead of going to meetings. They got to go horseback riding while he was stuck listening to the “main nations” fight over what should be the next topic.

            Maybe he could pass notes with Latvia, see if his government would let him come with him to Liechtenstein’s after the last day of meetings. Ravis had been pretty busy over the last few months and hadn’t gotten to come with all of them when they all went to see Dynjandi.

            Iceland snapped out of his train of thought when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out answering it when he saw who was calling.

            “Densen, thanks for giving me a call,” he shifted so he could see the clock next to his hotel room’s bed. It was still a good two hours before the day’s meeting begun.

            _“Really Ice? This is how you greet your favorite family member?”_ it was whined, loudly, from the opposite end of the call.

            “Timo is my favorite actually, his gingerbread cookies are to die for and he got me that blue hat with the pompom on it for my last birthday. Sorry Denmark, he has you beat,” he stood up as he spoke, stretching one arm then the other with his cell phone pressed in between his ear and shoulder.

            _“Are you kidding me? I was the one who taught you how to fish and tie your damn shoes! Niels, Niels, do you hear this?”_ Denmark’s voice got quieter as he spoke to Norway, who responded but was barely able to be heard.

            There was a loud shuffling followed by a thud. The phone went dead a few moments later, leaving Iceland to stand in the middle of his hotel room like an idiot. He huffed, tossing his phone back onto his bed, before moving into the bathroom to take care of his business.

            He went to the bathroom and washed his face before shuffling out towards his closet to set out his clothes. His phone buzzed again, the screen lighting up with Niels’ photo. Iceland contemplated whether he should let it ring but inevitably answered it.

            “Yes?”

            There was a muffled yelling from the other end followed by a sigh, _“Sorry about that. He was only supposed to invite you to breakfast.”_

            Erik grinned letting out a weak snort at the other’s tone.

            “That sounds fine, where are we going?” he asked.

            Niels clucked his tongue, about to answer, only for more muffled yells to sound out. He frowned, not bothering to cover up the mouth piece as he spoke, _“Oh, quiet down Søren. Your life isn’t going to end because you’ve been tied down by a bed sheet; the knots aren’t even as tight as they were when we were dating decades ago.”_

            Erik said nothing, his ears going pink at the words he never needed to hear. Ever.

            “Text me the details, I’m hanging up now. I need to take a shower.”

            He heard the beginnings of a stuttered apology before he canceled the call, plugging his phone in to charge as he went to take a quick shower. He spaced out ten minutes more than he wanted to after he washed his hair, staring at the wall thinking about what kind of new bow tie he should pick up for his puffin.

            By the time he got out of the bathroom and changed, forty minutes had gone by. He checked his phone as he brushed his hair, noting the address for the café Niels had sent him before opening up the messages he got from Hong Kong.

_‘you awake? i forgot if there’s a meeting or not today. lise and i are really bored and wanted to know if you wanted to skype’_

_‘are you already in the meeting? is germanly yelling at you b/c your phone went off? sorry, if so. if not, answer me you icicle’_

            Iceland set his hair brush down, choosing to forgo a tie for the day, before he answered.

_‘No, the meeting doesn’t start until eleven, you half fried dumpling. And you’re BORED? Oh no, whatever shall the world do???’_

            He hit send before packing up his briefcase, making sure the papers and files he might need for the day were in order. He patted his pockets noting his wallet and hotel room key before he shut off the lights.

            He stood in the elevator waiting for it to reach the ground floor, taking his phone out again as it buzzed.

_‘we’re both bored!! skip the meeting today, get some cheep take out for lunch and skype with us.’_

            He sighed, shaking his head despite the fact no one could see him.

_‘You know I can’t do that. I get out at five(ish). I’ll Skype you then. Have to go to breakfast w/ N and S. Ttyl.’_

            Only a few seconds after he sent the message did he get one back reading, _‘boo!!! you’re being no fun!!! : (’_

            He sent one more message before pocketing his phone, making his way towards the café Niels and Søren would hopefully already be at.

 _‘Uh huh, that’s me, No Fun Erik. I’ll talk with you two later._ ❤ _’_

            …

            Breakfast had been mostly uneventful. Niels had apologized for his comment. None of them had mentioned it past that. Denmark had gotten foam from his cappuccino on his nose; Norway had gotten texts from Finland wishing him a good meeting day followed by 27 heart emojis. Norway had counted.

            They arrived at the building the meeting had been held in for the past week only to find the other nations standing in the lobby, talking quietly amongst themselves. England left his older brothers and America behind in favor of coming over to speak with Norway.

            “France booked us a different meeting room today and we do not know which one it is, the idiot isn’t here yet,” Iceland didn’t stay to hear the rest. He peered around until he spotted Latvia speaking with Northern Ireland, both of them sitting down on one of the overstuffed lounge chairs.

            “Hey,” he greeted with a nod of the head. Ravis and Conan turned to look at him with their own nods and smiles.

            “How’d you sleep?” Conan spoke first shifting so there was room for Erik on the seat.

            “Pretty good, how about you two?”

            “I slept pretty well,” Ravis answered before taking a sip of coffee. “Turned in later than I wanted to, but it was a later meeting time anyways.”

            “I ended up having a debate with Luxembourg over rabbits of all things, he thought the ones with their ears up were cuter,” Conan confessed.

            “But the ones with the floppy ears are cuter,” Iceland took a seat as he spoke.

            “Exactly.”

            Ravis shifted uneasily, “But, the ones with their ears up can move them easily; that’s super cute.”

            Northern Ireland and Iceland looked at Latvia as if he had grown a second head. He personification ducked his head down rubbing at the back of his neck.

            “Well, it’s your opinion, I suppose,” Conan finally relented not wanting the other to feel bad about his choice of rabbits.

            “Mhmm,” Erik hummed in agreement. “I do have a question to ask you guys though; do you want to come over to Liechtenstein’s when the meetings are done? Her and Hong Kong are already there doing whatever and I figured it would be nice for you to come too.”

            Conan answered first, “Not like I have anything better to do. Why not?”

            “I think I can go, I’ll email my president and see what he says,” Ravis answered after thinking for a moment. “It would be nice to go though, it’s been a while.”

            Iceland was about to add more but a loud commotion startled him and the others out of their conversation. France had finally arrived, briefcase and to-go coffee in hand. He was trying to calm the others down and was so far pretty unsuccessful.

            “-Yes, yes, I am sorry for the meeting room change! I should have emailed you all, but it will be worth it, I promise,” he made his way through the crowd to the front desk, speaking quickly with the man behind the counter before getting the room key.

            There was hushed, annoyed mumbling as the nations began to move after Francis towards the stairs. Conan gave a quick goodbye before he moved to catch up with his siblings, Ravis doing the same as he moved to follow Estonia.

            Erik found himself in between Niels and Søren, walking up three flights of stairs, then standing in the entry way of what was supposedly the meeting room. The table was a large perfect circle with overstuffed coaches around the edges. Name plates had already been set up. There was an over abundance of food on the snack cart and pillows on the couches.

            Francis had clearly gone insane.

            “This is not a working environment Francis,” Germany spoke first, looking at the host nation with a raised brow and a frown.

            “It is only a bit more casual! I figured we might as well give it a try, if it doesn’t work out then we will be back in the regular place tomorrow,” he quickly defended himself moving further into the room towards his own seat.

            No one else had any objections, moving to where their name plates were before taking a seat. Iceland got the papers out he would need ready to settle in for another boring meeting, which it was. For about an hour.

            Alfred and Francis had been whispering about something, rather harshly, for a few minutes as the presenters switched. Alfred’s hands were moving rapidly in the air and Francis kept shaking his head. Ludwig tried to stop Francis from speaking, or at least shaking his head, only for Alfred to stand up. Everyone turned their attention to him as he let out a huff.

            “Bullshit.”

            “Alfred, that is enough-”

            “Oh, so only when I actually get angry do you stop-”

            “Alfred,” Germany tried to stop the fight before it could happen, but he was too late.

            France opened his mouth to defend himself once again only to be slapped across the face with a pillow so hard that he fell onto the table sliding a few feet towards the center. England burst out laughing as France let out a groan.

            “Oh, now you’ve done it,” he darted back towards the edge, grabbing a pillow off of the Baltic’s couch before launching it at Alfred, but his aim was off. It hit Germany instead.

            The room went still as the soft projectile slid down the other’s body. Germany’s face gave away nothing as he let his suit jacket slide onto the couch. He loosened his tie, then rolled up his sleeves.

            He threw a pillow at Francis. The man barely dodged, going flat against the meeting room table at the last second. It hit Poland instead, who toppled over the back of the couch he was sitting on with a shriek. Hungary gasped before grabbing her own pillow and throwing it back at Germany, who ducked down under the edge of the table.

            Then, Alfred did what he always seemed to do. He made it worse.

            “Pillow fight!”

            He grabbed two more pillows, one in each hand, launching them across the room. They hit North Italy and Romania dead on, both nations letting out various noises of disbelief as they grabbed their own pillows.

            “There’s no way to stop Ludwig or Alfred! They’re too strong!” someone shouted out as the meeting room finally fell into utter chaos.

            “Oh yes there is!” Francis yelled before he launched himself at Alfred, knocking him back onto the couch and pinning him down as soon as he could. He shoved his hands up Alfred’s untucked dress shirt, and Alfred let out a shriek that quickly developed into mad laughter.

            He kicked France off before trying to scramble away only for Germany to grab him by the ankle, quickly dragging him back.

            “No, no, no ,no-” but he was cut off as fingers got to his ankles and knees.

            Poland soon was back up, hair in a mess as he grabbed Lithuania from behind running his fingers all along the other’s sides. They collapsed onto the floor, Lithuania crying out in between laughs. Romania and Hungary were in a battle, wielding two pillows each as they tried to sock one another.

            With a loud battle cry England launched himself off of his spot, smashing a pillow across South Italy’s face which immediately caused the older nation to stumble backwards and topple off of the meeting room table onto Canada’s lap. Canada fell backwards. As both nations were grappling on the ground, Lovino quickly wrapped his legs around Canada’s waist so he could get at the other’s neck, Matthew’s laughter soon sounding throughout the room.

            Greece was pummeling Turkey with a pillow, until the pillow exploded into a million feathers, giving Turkey the opportunity to tackle Greece onto the meeting room table. England’s brothers had him held down, the younger man kicking out his legs as fast as possible as they tried to take off his oxfords his arms already held above his head.

            Latvia and Conan were nowhere in sight, probably hiding under the table, or fighting under the table.

            It was chaos, complete chaos. Feathers exploded into the air, laughter and shrieking drowning out the muffled noises of pillows hitting faces and sides. Alfred was in the middle of all of it, trying to fight off Germany, of all nations, and France at the same time. He was failing spectacularly, his face red from laughing so hard.

            Iceland stood so he was pressed flat against the wall completely mortified as this went on around him. Had you told him the meeting was going to end up like this, he would have stayed in bed that morning like Hong Kong had suggested.

            Never again would he make the same mistake.

            He froze when he saw Denmark looking directly at him. The man had no pillow but his fingers were poised, clearly at the ready. He bolted trying to reach the meeting room doors, but Norway cut him off, tackling him to the ground so Denmark could catch up.

            “Oh my god, don’t you fucking dare, I swear to god-”

            “Such language,” Niels tsked, sitting on Erik’s legs so they were pinned down.

            “So, Ice, want to rethink who your favorite family members are?” Søren grinned down at him, pinning his arms down before he could try to punch the other.

            Iceland tried not to panic, wiggling around as much as he could, trying to get out of his brother’s hold. Hands, cold hands, unbuttoned his shirt then rested on his stomach.

            “If you do this, I will never forgive you, I swear it,” he spoke quietly, his tone high-pitched in slight fear.

            Norway snorted, “Yeah right.”

            Iceland tried to hold it in, to not give the other two any satisfaction, but he was entirely unsuccessful once Denmark joined Norway in tickling him. He hadn’t been tickled since he was physically seven years old. He still hated it.

            “Stop, stop, stop-” he cried it out over and over again trying to buck Norway off of his legs.

            More pillows broke, more feathers went everywhere. Laughter, both forced and real, filled the air. Alfred was calling out uncle but France and Germany did not yet relent.

            Iceland’s face had gone red, all of his energy drained. Denmark ran his fingertips over his neck and he barely jerked one way before having to jerk his head back the way it was a few seconds later.

            Norway was hit over the head with a pillow and Denmark was tackled down by the Netherlands, the two of them rolling around on the floor trying to pin the other down. Norway was dragged into a fight between Portugal and Belgium.

            Iceland crawled under the table, his suspicions confirmed when he found Latvia and Northern Ireland crouched down in the middle. He laid down a few feet from them, panting and wheezing from his ordeal. He never wanted to do that again. Ever.

            “Ice, you okay?” Ravis whispered it out, concern on his face clear as day.

            “I will be, after Denmark pisses himself from the Netherlands’ beating him in this fucking tickle war.”

            Conan shifted, looking uneasy, “I think Arthur is well on his way to that state now, as is Alfred.”

            Thumping sounded from the table above them, as if to confirm it, Alfred still crying out for mercy, saying he was sorry for what he had done. His laughter, however, didn’t slow.

            “Conan,” it was called out from the side of the table. Northern Ireland froze, slowly turning to look only to see Wales grinning in his direction.

            “Yes?” he asked, getting ready to run if he needed to.

            “You’re being left out,” his older brother’s grin only seemed to grow larger as Conan tensed. “Why don’t you come over here and join in on some family fun?”

            “How about no.”

            Conan quickly tried to crawl out the other side, leaving Ravis and Erik behind, letting out a shout of ‘no’ as Scotland grabbed him as he got out on the side opposite of Wales. He had been tricked. His two friends watched as he was lifted off of the floor, his laughter soon joining in with the others.

            “I really want to help, but I really don’t,” Ravis whispered out, eyes wide in disbelief.

            “I get you,” Iceland whispered back.

            The fight wasn’t winding down anytime soon. Feathers littered the ground, and many more were joining them. Canada had managed to pin down South Italy with the help of the formers brother, Hungary was smothering Romania with a pillow, Spain in Turkey were now in a heated pillow fight with Greece trying to help Spain by tripping Turkey up from the floor, Lithuania was finally getting his revenge on Poland with the help of Estonia, and Denmark was still stuck going back and forth between the Netherlands and Belgium, who decided to help out her brother.

            England must have joined in with America’s torment, the young nation let out a cry of _‘Artie no!’_ followed by more laughter. His voice was growing horse. Iceland felt a bit of remorse, though not much seeing as how he started the whole thing.

            Norway was hit across the face with a pillow by Albania, falling to the floor as a result. He turned to see Iceland and Latvia sitting by themselves under the table. Iceland tensed as his brother moved to crawl under the table, only to be stopped by the one who hit him before, by being dragged back by his legs behind one of the moved couches.

            “I say we run,” Iceland spoke first, beginning to crawl towards the edge where the door was.

            Latvia followed, both of them waiting at the edge until the coast was clear. They ran for the doors at the same time, only to be stopped by Luxembourg who threw pillows at their feet, bringing them to a stumbling halt.

            Iceland rolled only to be pinned down once again by his friend, gloved fingers wiggling menacingly.

            Needless to say, it was a long time before any control was reined over the battling nations. Alfred was crying on the top of the meeting room table, face bright red and breaths quick as he tried to get some air back into his lungs. They all had to clean up all of the feathers, and rearrange the room back to where it had been before.

            They would never be using a meeting room with pillows ever again. Ever.

            Iceland could only groan as he pushed a couch back into place with the help of his two brothers, who he was still angry at. His sides hurt and he only wanted to sleep, but they still had to finish the meeting up, with the remaining pillows all stacked against one wall, which was now off limits.

            Maybe he would take Hong Kong’s advice tomorrow. He had enough meetings to last the rest of the next week.

            …

           

            When he, Conan, and Ravis arrived in Liechtenstein five days later, Jia Long and Elise hadn’t believed them when they told the other two what had happened. They had been eating dinner, courtesy of the pizza place they stopped by on the way back from the airport, Hong Kong and Liechtenstein laughing at their ‘tall tale.’

            “There is no way that Germany teamed up with France in order to tickle America, it didn’t happen,” Jia Long jabbed his half eaten pizza slice in Erik’s direction. “You have no proof.”

            Erik looked to Conan, who only sighed, reaching over to get his phone. He unlocked it, quickly going to his photo gallery to show the most recent ones to the two who hadn’t been at the meeting. Hong Kong openly gasped.

            The meeting room was covered in feathers and pillows in a few of them. Another showed Alfred flailing around as France and England pinned him down; Germany’s hands were a blur around Alfred’s feet. There were a couple others too, Denmark and the Netherlands laying side by side out of breath, Hungary shoving a pillow into Romania’s face, Spain using a pillow to hit Turkey over the head.

            The last one showed Wales taking a selfie, Northern Ireland in the background pinned under Scotland trying to crawl away as his older brother shoved his hands under the other’s shirt, clearly going for his sides.

            “Holy shit,” Hong Kong finally got out, sitting back in awe.

            “Why couldn’t that happen at a world meeting?” Liechtenstein pouted, “We got left out.”

            “If it happened at a world meeting, none of us would have made it out alive,” Iceland deadpanned, causing the other four to laugh.

            He went to grab his pizza slice again, Elise darting out a hand to poke his side. He looked at her, no one saying anything.

            “Elise, I love you to death, but if you think I will let this stand,” he trailed off. She poked him again.

            He let out a loud yell, tackling her down onto the floor. Laughter filled the house long into the night, pizza easily forgotten. While it wasn’t as extreme as World War Three, which had clearly occurred earlier, it was enough.

            When Switzerland stopped by the check on them the next day, he found all five of them passed out on the floor, smiles bright as day. While Iceland didn’t necessarily enjoy pillow fights, or tickle fights, he guessed it was fun every now and again.

            Finland was still his favorite though.

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt sent to me on Tumblr as follows: do what you want with this but I recently finished reading your frus fic, napoleon pillows and laughter, and it was so cute! so, here's a prompt/suggestion; world war three as a tickle fight./pillow fight
> 
> Hope this was a bright fic that made your day a bit happier! Comments and kudos appreciated!


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